


Ease

by sodamnrad



Series: The Body Count Series [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adult Hermione Granger, Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Draco Malfoy In Love, Draco Malfoy in the Muggle World, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Good Draco Malfoy, Good Pansy Parkinson, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Hermione Granger & Harry Potter Friendship, Married Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Minor Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Minor Pansy Parkinson/Blaise Zabini, POV Hermione Granger, Pansy Parkinson is a Good Friend, Past Draco Malfoy/Pansy Parkinson, Past Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Pining Draco Malfoy, Protective Draco Malfoy, Redeemed Draco Malfoy, Romance, Semi-Public Sex, Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-12 14:08:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29386080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sodamnrad/pseuds/sodamnrad
Summary: “I’m sorry," She says again.“What on earth do you have to be sorry for? I should be sorry.”“What do you mean?”“I didn’t bloody well think. I should’ve realized, I should’ve been more cautious.”“You don’t have to do this.”“Do what?”“Me. Us. You don’t have to put yourself through this. I should never have agreed to dating you. I wasn’t being fair.”“Look at me,” He demands, waits until she does, “I’ll have you any way I can. Get that through your thick skull now, Granger. If you want to get rid of me, you’ll have to try a hell of a lot harder than that.”* * *Hermione and Draco have just started dating. But after a terrible incident last May, Hermione struggles through PTSD and profound anxiety.A fluffy story with romantic smut. Sexual slow burn.This is the sequel to The Body Count. It is completed.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Lavender Brown/Ron Weasley, Pansy Parkinson/Blaise Zabini
Series: The Body Count Series [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2155752
Comments: 37
Kudos: 214





	1. PART I

**Author's Note:**

> As mentioned above this is the sequel to [The Body Count](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29139864/). I suppose it can be read as a standalone but there will be gaps, you might as well just read the first one. It's not thaaat long lol.
> 
> Those of you who have read The Body Count, please know this is slightly different. More romantic and fluffy, and less humorous. I wanted to approach this sensitively given Hermione really suffered major trauma. There will be very juicy smut, trust me. But it's definitely a sexual slow burn. 
> 
> This story includes references to past sexual assault.

**PART I**

**JUNE**

“Pansy – Ginny, Ginny – Pansy. I know you think you know each other but you don’t. You’re meeting for the very first time and you’re going to be nice because I love you both and you love me and it just makes sense.”

Pansy smirks. Ginny sighs. “Fine.” They say in unison.

Hermione grins.

* * *

“How intense is Potter in bed?”

Hermione braces herself for Ginny’s response. She is either going to bite Parkinson’s head off or –

“Depends on the mood.” Ginny replies unblinkingly. “Post Wizarding War? He would shag me like we were never going to see each other again.” 

“That’s hot.” Pansy is grinning. “I always wondered, you know. I imagine Potter has some major kinks.”

Hermione is the one making a face. “Really, Pans?”

“We all know you’re not a little prude anymore, Granger. Ease off it,” Pansy says. “Besides, you wanted us to bond. This is how I bond.”

Ginny makes a murmur of assent, “Now that you’re not dating Ron, I think we can have these chats, Mione. It won’t be nearly as cringey. Even if it is Malfoy.” 

“Speaking of Draco, show me what you’re wearing tomorrow night.” Pansy crosses her legs casually across Hermione’s coffee table. A Muggle record is playing through the stereo system. A stack of dishes has piled in the sink from dinner, (plus dessert, a second dessert, and three snacks all gobbled up by Ginny).

“Nothing fancy, I told him I want to keep it casual. I was thinking jeans and a jumper.”

“Draco must’ve _loved_ that.” Pansy barks out a laugh. “The poor bloke doesn’t know the definition of casual.”

Hermione nibbles her lower lip, “What should I wear then?” This marks her first official date with Draco, and now she’s second guessing herself.

“Wear whatever that glowing, Gryffindor heart desires, Granger. It’s _you_.” 

This is an odd thing for Pansy to say given she never takes fashion less than seriously. But she’s been gentler with her since last month.

“It still shocks me to hear that.”

“Haven’t you ever heard of opposites attract, Gin-Gin? Not everyone has to date their chummy BFFs.”

Ginny shoots her a hard look, her fire never squelched for long. “Yeah, you and Zabini are poster-child examples, Parkinson.”

“Touché.”

“Enough blabbering.” Hermione stands. “Find me something to wear tomorrow. What’s casual in Malfoy terminology?”

* * *

Pansy was right. Draco Malfoy doesn’t do casual.

She appraises the dark blue trousers, brown leather oxfords and matching belt. He isn’t wearing a jacket, and has rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, which is, perhaps, his representation of the term.

He takes his time staring at her periwinkle summer dress. Looks at her face. Does a double take. “Careful, Granger. Your fourteen-year-old self would feel rather betrayed at the way you’re gazing at me right now.”

“Fifteen.”

“What?”

“I was fifteen when I slapped you.” She places a hand on the freshly shaved cheek now.

He swallows. Their eyes hold. He leans in, slowly, giving her time to step back if she wants. She doesn’t. When they kiss, she notices that he smells different like bursting citrus and sycamore woods. He tastes like clean mint.

She is reminded of how it felt to kiss him on his birthday, like a new star scintillating to existence.

“Is this your concept of casual?”

“What’s more casual than dinner at my home?” He pulls the chair back for her.

“For starters, no part of your home is _casual_.”

They are under a gazebo decked in fairy lights and covered in lush, green vines. A table for two has been set in the centre, lit by a single flame of a wax candle. There is a bottle of wine and a breadbasket between two place settings.

Hermione casts a warming spell over herself before tucking her wand away.

“Why don’t you plan the date next time, then? Let me guess. Pizza out of a cardboard box, sweats and,” he shudders, “beer in a can.”

“How do you know about takeaway pizza?” She is intrigued.

“I have walked through the Muggle city, Granger.”

Ron used to go crazy over Muggle pizza. She wonders if she will ever have that ease with Draco. An awkward silence fills the space between them.

He clears his throat. “What’s on your mind?”

“I’m taking you on a Muggle date one day.” If he can’t accept her heritage or at least give it a try then this will never work.

“Very well.” She is shocked by how quickly he has agreed. “Do give me more credit, Granger. I’m not a total snob.”

He’s right. She _wants_ this to work and he deserves the benefit of the doubt. Besides, would Ron have ever set up a date like this? Perhaps if he was trying to propose and Harry gave him a hand. This is Draco’s safe place. She feels like a woman in her twenties, seduced by sophistication and solid effort.

She crosses one leg over the other and props her chin on her joined hands. “So, tell me about your house elves. Are they free and fairly compensated?” 

The light in his eyes remerges and a genuine smile lifts his lips.

* * *

She wakes in a cold sweat. The duvet is too heavy and feels like a person’s weight over her. Her heart is beating too fast. A pair of glowing eyes stare back at her and she screams. Crookshanks makes a hissing noise and leaps off the mattress. She kicks the blankets away and tries to fall back to sleep.

* * *

**JULY**

“McGonagall cleared the Hogwarts’ Quidditch pitch for your birthday,” Ron says, “She wants you to consider it her gift.”

Harry and Ron are playing Wizard’s Chess at the kitchen table. Hermione is sitting beside Harry, watching the game even though she doesn’t care for it.

Harry smiles fondly at the mention of the former Head of Gryffindor. “We still need a second Seeker.” There’s frustration in his voice because Ron is beating him, as usual. 

“Why not Draco?” Hermione suggests.

The boys stiffen visibly. Ron looks like he’s just taken a bite out of a vomit-flavoured bean. Harry says, “You remember how the games against Slytherin used to be, Mione. He doesn’t have the best sportsmanship.”

“Why? Because he refused to let you win easy?”

“The prat bought his way on the team, you even said so yourself.” Ron is unable to help himself. “And nobody will want him there.”

She shoots him a dark look, “That was years ago. Besides, he was a good Seeker. Even I remember so much.”

Ron and Harry are exchanging looks across the table and Hermione is both irritated and feeling left out. Ron says, “You want to go through a ridiculous bad boy phase, go ahead. But keep us the bloody hell out of it.”

She stands, “He’s not a _phase_ , Ronald. But fine you want me to stay out of it, then I’m leaving.”

“Mione, come on.” Harry takes his glasses off to rub the bridge of his nose. “It’s nothing against you. Malfoy wouldn’t even want to come!”

But she’s already at the fireplace and making her grand exit.

* * *

“Ms. Granger?”

She is staring out the window, plagued by thoughts of time. If she’d gone to the loo a minute earlier, or a few minutes later perhaps it never would have happened. Or if she’d stayed in the loo and stared at her reflection longer, maybe washed her face, or spent a minute or two tying back her hair. If Ginny had been more pregnant and accompanied her because she couldn’t control her bladder.

“Ms. Granger?”

She wonders if it was her fault or if fate was simply having a laugh at her expense. Perhaps it was karma’s big fat middle finger for sleeping around all last year. Or maybe, she’s cursed to suffer her whole life. What if fate isn’t through with her yet? What if -

“Ms. Granger!”

She snaps out of it. “Yes?”

“I have called your name at least five times.” Mrs. Oxbridge opens her mouth to ask a question but changes her mind. “Take the day off, Ms. Granger. You are looking very pale.” 

* * *

When she arrives at the auction, Draco is talking to another woman.

He spots her and the expression on his face changes completely. “Granger.” He is walking over. “You’re here.” Appraising her black pantsuit and red patent heels with sizzling admiration. “Come.” He drapes an arm around her shoulders and guides her to the back of the building.

“What do you think?” He shows her an abstract painting set aside backstage. A quick handshake and an _I’m Draco Malfoy_ and the owner of the establishment is inviting them in for a closer look. “I wanted it for the dining room.”

“It’s marvelous. You can see all the layers of colour, it has so much depth.” She steps closer. “And that brushwork is so raw…”

He backs her up a few steps to point out from afar, “See the way the red is used to frame the figure? Only brief touches but with purpose.”

“You’re right. It draws the eye to the opposite curves of the silhouette. Are you going to make a bid?”

“Planning on it, wanted your opinion first.”

“I think it’s perfect.”

After a vicious bidding war, Draco leaves that night the owner of an exorbitantly expensive abstract. 

* * *

Soft jazz drifts through the room like a lullaby.

They are in the sitting area of his master suite. An empty bottle of Pinot Noir between them. They lay on the rug because Hermione wanted to know if it was as soft as it looked and never got back up. Draco has since joined her and is staring at her mouth like it is a work of art.

She kisses him and tastes rich wine. His eyes become irate thunderclouds at dusk, dimming with each stroke of tongue against tongue.

He rolls over so that she is beneath him and he is covering her with his heat.

Bone-shaking claustrophobia tramples her diaphragm.

She shoves him away and sits up in one swift motion. Earns a headrush in the process. Her heart is beating so fast that her breaths puff out in pants. She screws her eyes shut and folds over her knees, tilting her head downwards.

When she looks at him again, it is through fat teardrops, “I’m sorry.”

She is being haunted by a memory that won’t leave her alone. It is seeping into every aspect of her life. Home, work and now _here_. With _him._ The brilliant Hermione Granger with a razorblade tongue has dithered down to _this._

“I should go.” She begins to stand, wiping at her tears.

“No wait.” He’s up too. “Don’t leave like this. Talk to me, Hermione. Please.”

She shakes her head.

“You don’t trust me.” He says it like he’s not surprised.

“It’s not that. I do trust you, please don’t doubt that. I need to sort myself out.” She won’t drag him down this hole. It’s black and endless and she has yet to see a light on the other side.

He walks past her and blocks her exit, “I won’t let you leave like this. Have a seat.” He motions to the couch.

“Don’t do this, Draco.”

“Shut up, Granger. Take a damn seat.”

She listens because there’s a part of her that doesn’t want to be alone, either.

“Tell me what just happened.” He sits a cushion away, facing her.

She won’t look at him. “When you were on top of me, it triggered a memory from that night…”

The words are cotton wool on her tongue. “I don’t do well with things weighing me down, even if I know I’m safe. My body reacts completely out of my control.” He _– Smith,_ changed something in her and now her brain and body are at a disconnect.

“I’m sorry,” She says again.

“What on earth do you have to be sorry for? I should be sorry.”

Now he is the one unable to look at her. “What do you mean?”

“I didn’t bloody well think. I should’ve realized, I should’ve been more cautious.”

“You don’t have to do this.”

“Do what?”

“Me. Us. You don’t have to put yourself through this. I should never have agreed to dating you. I wasn’t being fair.” She stares at her knuckles.

“Look at me,” He demands, waits until she does, “I’ll have you any way I can. Get that through your thick skull now, Granger. If you want to get rid of me, you’ll have to try a hell of a lot harder than that.”

* * *

Hermione brings Viktor Krum to Harry’s birthday.

Ron and Ginny convince her to ask him to play Seeker for the friendly Quidditch match. He agrees immediately. She realizes he must feel guilty for how she left him the last time they saw one another.

Harry has never been happier to lose.

She tells herself it’s worth it, that she doesn’t feel guilty. Her relationship with Viktor is completely platonic but cake and dessert at Grimmauld Place is coupled up and it feels wrong not to be here with Draco. Harry and Ron made it very clear that he wasn’t welcome. She wonders if he ever will be. Her oldest friends are convinced that he is a passing phase and refuse to play nice.

It is hard to engage in conversation. When Lavender and Ron talk about their plans to visit France. When Harry and Ginny consider baby names. When Neville and Luna discuss their growing garden. All she can think of is how she ran away from Krum’s bed in tears a year ago.

Ginny catches her eye across the table. The redhead shifts her gaze to Ron and Harry with burning determination.

* * *

**AUGUST**

Hermione is the only Gryffindor at Blaise Zabini’s birthday.

She wears a rust-coloured slip dress with strappy heels. Her hair is pulled into a loose chignon. Draco takes one look at her and says, “I won’t be able to keep my hands off you tonight.” He is in layers of black and smells like the dark cologne that she loves.

The familiar high ceilings and glittering chandeliers appear as they arrive to the swank mansion together.

Marcus Flint takes one look at her on Draco’s arm and sneers only the way a Slytherin could, “Malfoy.” Doesn’t acknowledge her.

The grip around her waist tightens. Draco shoots Flint a cursory glance and guides her forward, dismissing him only the way a wizard of high-breeding would. 

Pansy’s presence is the gust of oxygen in a suffocating room.

She is all legs in a sexy jade dress. Blaise will thoroughly enjoy unwrapping her tonight. Hermione tells her so and Pansy grins like the cat who caught the canary. Draco parts with a swift kiss on her cheek and a muttered assurance that he’ll be right back.

Pansy loops her arm through Hermione’s and leads her to the bar. “Thank Merlin you’re here, Granger. How are all Slytherin events such sausage fests? I didn’t used to mind when I was single, now I’m downright bored.”

Hermione looks around the room, completely out of her element. The dislike of her lingers through the house. She’s on the tail end of a slew of disparaging looks. “At least you’re one of them.”

She is already chockful of insecurity when Flint finds her again.

“Wasn’t enough to infiltrate the Wizarding World, Granger?” He is unable to help himself, especially now that Draco isn’t by her side. “Have to sully our House too?”

He doesn’t outright say the word. But it hangs in the air, lingers in the distaste of his beady eyes. Pansy steps forward, all teeth. “I told Blaise to filter out the trash from the guest list. Looks like he missed one.”

“I’m not the only one that thinks so, Parkinson. I just have the balls to say it.”

Many guests have lost loved ones to the war against her side. Death or Azkaban, same difference. And while they are forced to be cordial, the prejudice lingers. Even after all this time. Especially with Hermione Granger.

She shouldn’t have come.

* * *

“He said _what?_ Why didn’t you find me?”

“I’m hardly going to come running to you every time someone makes a jab at me.”

“You should. Anyone that insults you insults me too.” He drops onto the sofa, loosening his tie with a frustrated yank.

She surprises him by plopping onto his lap. “Since when?” Her arms curl around his neck.

His breath hitches. “Since you became mine.”

She makes a noise of approval in the back of her throat. Brushes her nose beneath his jaw, the delicious smell of darkness and alpha male fills her senses. “You smell good enough to eat.”

His pulse spikes against her lips. “I’ll let you take a bite.” His hands slide up her waist, slipping over the ladder of ribs until he reaches the base of her breasts. He pauses, giving her a moment to stop him. She doesn’t. His thumbs stroke her nipples over the fabric, they are already hard. “Do you have anything on under this dress?”

“Possibly something thin and lacey.” Her thighs squeeze him harder.

He releases a harsh breath. “And here?” He cups her tits.

“Why don’t you find out?” She slides a strap off her shoulder and raises a challenging brow. 

His eyes remind her of onyx stone set over the thinnest of silver bands. A hot hand curves over the plane of her shoulder and slips the remaining strap down. The satin fabric pools to her waist leaving her completely bare above.

“Bloody hell.” At first, he doesn’t touch, he stares and stares as if taking each curve and peak to memory.

She is breathing just as raggedly as him and wonders when she lost control. “Are you just going to stare all night?”

Their eyes meet and he smirks. “Not sure.” He leans back lazily, “I do love the view.”

“Touch me, Draco.”

He groans.

One hand eases up her torso until it curves over the swell of her breast. He pauses to watch it rise and fall. The other palm begins to trace the line of her arm to her shoulder, a feather touch across the column of her neck, and then he is kissing her.

Her nipple is positioned between the space of his middle and ring fingers. He clamps them closed. She releases an audible breath.

“Remember last year, when you were in white on your birthday,” He speaks against her lips. She makes a faint noise of acknowledgement. “There were curls, draped over your shoulders.” He locates the elastic band holding up her hair and slides it free. Releases her mouth so he can watch as her hair tumbles down. Stares like he can’t believe she is real.

His grip clenches around her breast. “I could practically see these perfect tits through that top. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about them since.”

She presses into him more firmly, notices a flush crawling up his neck and follows it with her lips.

“And then,” He meets her eyes and holds, “You went home with fucking McLaggen. I wanted to strangle you both.” His hand comes around her neck, squeezing a little.

“Did he touch you like this?” His other hand continues to twist and stroke her right breast. “Answer me.”

“No.” She gasps, distracted by his touch and the dark swirls of his irises.

He releases the grip around her neck, and presses his thumb to her pulse, “Did your heart race like this when he held you?”

“No.” The edges of her vision have gone blurry, she doesn’t care. She wants him more than she has ever wanted anything.

He cups her other breast. It isn’t as warm as the first, but it will be. “Do you like when I do this?”

She runs her fingers through his silky hair, such a contrast against her browned skin. “Yes.” She presses into him. Her tits are small and fit perfectly in his hands.

Draco never pushes her, never expects anything. He takes everything she offers like a starved man, but doesn’t become greedy. They snog for a very long time, and he teases her all the way through. But it doesn’t go further and Hermione is grateful.

She thinks that tonight was a sign that she is healing.

* * *

She experiences the worst nightmare yet. A pair of wicked blue eyes brightening at her pain. A room full of Slytherins watching with excitement. She is naked and on display and they are making a mockery out of her. She sobs and screams but only air comes out of her mouth.

When she wakes, she is unable to fall back asleep. She spends the rest of the night reading Dickens, blanking between every few paragraphs. A night of pleasure reduced to nauseating insomnia and a broken spirit.

The next morning, she goes to Flourish and Blotts and purchases every book she can find on sexual assault and overcoming PTSD. She is Hermione Granger and she doesn’t give up. Especially not when she has so much to lose.

* * *

“Are you alright, Hermione? Not that you don’t look banging, but you’ve lost quite a bit of weight.”

Pansy and Hermione lounge next to Draco’s big, blue swimming pool. Draco and Blaise are diving off their brooms into the deep end, challenging one another to go higher each time. The scent of Pansy’s tanning lotion and Hermione’s coconut juice floats in the sticky air. The sun is at its peak, the kind of hot that you need sandals on the pavement or else you’ll burn the soles of your feet.

She has worn a one-piece swimsuit to conceal the protruding bones of her ribs and hips but nothing gets past her sharp-eyed friend. “I’m fine.” She reads the same sentence of the novel three times.

“I heard Oxbridge talking about you at work.”

The book falls to her thighs. “Saying what?”

Pansy slides her oversized sunglasses to the top of her head, “She says you’ve been out of it lately. That you’ve been forgetful and haven’t been contributing the way you used to. We both know that’s not you at all.”

She wants to say that neither of them knows her anymore but bites her tongue.

“I know a therapist that specializes in women’s health. Maybe you should talk to someone about… you know. I can give you her information?”

“I’m sorting it out on my own.” She snaps without meaning to. But it’s her problem to deal with and she doesn’t need others butting in.

“But Hermi-”

“I appreciate your concern, but I don’t want to talk about this.”

Pansy sighs, “I get it. Just think about it, alright? It might be helpful.”

She stands, tossing the hardcover on the chair. “If I wanted your help, I would’ve asked.”

A wet hand touches her shoulder. “Everything alright?”

She nearly jumps out of her skin. “Why don’t all of you just leave me the HELL alone!” Her heart is racing, and the world begins to darken. Still, she won’t remove her sunglasses. She scrambles to stuff her belongings into her oversized beach bag. “I’m leaving.”

Draco follows her after exchanging a look with Pansy. “Where are you going?”

“I need to go home.”

“Why? You only just got here.”

“And now I have to leave.”

He grasps her hand to stop her. She yanks it free. “Don’t touch me!” Her skin is crawling at the contact, she thinks she never wants to be touched again. Merlin, she’s about to cry. She makes a beeline to the house.

“Hermione.” Draco follows her. His wet hair is clinging to the sides of his face, there’s a drop of water sliding down his blond brow. “Just wait for a second.”

She doesn’t listen. It’s a race to the drawing room, to who will make it there first. She takes a fistful of floo powder and vanishes as Draco enters the room. His mouth is open calling out to her but she’s already gone.

She falls into her living room and bursts into loud, shaking sobs. She locks the floo network and apparition wards of her home and lies on her back in the middle of the floor for hours.


	2. PART II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Thanks for making it this far. Hope you enjoy this chapter.
> 
> x
> 
> S

**PART II**

**SEPTEMBER**

A Nirvana album plays on repeat. She found their sticker on the floor of Jason’s car last Christmas, a Muggle patient of her parents. She purchased their album on a whim and didn’t like it initially. Now, it’s all she can listen to.

She has memorized every one of their songs, on every single record.

“Hermione?”

She sits up to find Draco in her living room. They haven’t spoken in over a week. Not for a lack of trying on his part, but she has warded herself off from the rest of the world. Has owled in sick to work for days. Wonders if they’ll let her go when she returns. Doesn’t really care. 

His eyes linger on the dark circles beneath her eyes, the hollowness of her cheeks. “ _Hermione_.”

“Hi.” She was wondering when he would show up. She only unlocked the wards on her apartment this morning.

He sits on the coffee table in front of her. Doesn’t touch her. “Hi.”

“I’m sorry.” She tells him, because she is. Doesn’t try to touch him, either.

“It’s alright, I was worried about you.” His gaze trudges over the rest of her. “Talk to me.”

She looks at her hands, ragged cuticles and nails bitten down to stubs. “After Blaise’s birthday, I started having worse nightmares than before. I can’t sleep longer than two to three hours at a time unless I take Dreamless Sleep. But I’m working on it.”

She’s been reading self-help books, knows she should be going out and living life as normally as she can. Pick up hobbies. See a therapist, as Pansy suggested. But every time she tries to take that step, she finds an excuse not to. She’s too nauseous and needs to stay in. She has to clean her house and needs an entire day to do it. She doesn’t have the energy to face Draco or Pansy yet.

But she has missed him too dearly to shut him out. Knows she must be hurting him and can’t stand it.

“After we…?” He looks devastated.

“Yes.” The truth burns like scalding tea on the sensitive tip of her tongue. “I don’t know if it was because of us or because of Blaise’s house. The energy I was getting from everyone there. Maybe both.”

“It was too soon,” he says. Looks around her too-tidy home and notices the pile of letters he sent on the bookshelf, unopened. “Have you eaten today?”

“Yes.” She lies, doesn’t feel like eating. Hasn’t for a few days. She has fruits in the morning, tea throughout the day, and toast and cheese at night. It’s all she can keep down and just barely.

“What can I do?”

“Be patient.” Even though he already has been, it’s all she can give him. All she can ask for.

“Can I stay?”

“I’d like that.”

His shoulders relax. “What on earth are you listening to?”

* * *

They lie on her living room floor. Two parallel lines, beginning at the same point but going in different directions. Draco’s legs one way, Hermione’s another. Their eyes are at the same level and they stare at each other.

“This is one of my favourites,” she tells him, as the song _Oh Me_ begins to play. Cobain’s raw voice touching her somewhere deep inside. “It’s a cover but it feels like him.” She has told Draco all about her new favourite band. How it has kept her company for days. Her safe place.

_If I had to lose a mile_

_If I had to touch feelings_

_I would lose my soul_

_The way I do_

His eyes are like the edge of the sea after a torrential storm. Sprinkled with inky drops of black and a perfect crown of slate teal bordering the iris. She is so close she can count each individual blond lash.

Draco says, “He sings with purpose.”

Hermione says, “I think I’d like to learn guitar.”

They stay like this all night, staring at one another until the music stops playing and the both of them have fallen asleep.

* * *

Draco comes over every night and does anything she wants. Reads with her. Listens to music with her. Helps her reorganize her bookshelves. He doesn’t care so long as they’re together.

He brings her delicious dinners that are too hard to refuse and so she begins to eat more frequently.

She returns to work.

Pansy is relieved to see her. Apologizes for triggering something that day by the pool. Hermione insists it wasn’t her fault.

She hasn’t lost her job yet, but her workload is lighter and less involved. Oxbridge seems to realize that she is dealing with trauma and is patient with her.

She starts touching him again. A kiss on the cheek. A hand through his hair. A hug goodbye.

* * *

“We’re not celebrating your birthday,” Draco says. But has arrived to her flat with a massive, gift-wrapped box.

They have been spending all of their time here. The small space helps her feel comfortable. And she knows that Draco doesn’t care about its meager size because there are a million other reasons to have left her, yet he is adamantly here to stay.

“Oh, we’re not, are we?” She places her hands on her hips. She is in jeans and a soft jumper.

“Not at all, I won’t even say happy birthday.” There is a devilish smirk on his face. He leans the box against the wall to greet her with a gentle kiss on the cheek. He smells like his casual cologne, the newer one of citrus and sycamore woods.

“Then what is that?” She is staring at it, fingers twitching to rip it open even if she insisted on no celebrations.

“I shop when I’m bored and went a little overboard.” He’s so full of shit.

“Okay, Pansy.”

He chuckles, “Can’t I buy my girlfriend a gift on her birthday?”

She smiles at the term, likes it on his lips. Likes it even better because it’s in reference to her. “Fine, I’ll let it slide.” She is already pulling the wrapping paper apart.

Her breath catches in her throat.

“I went to a Muggle store to get it.” He explains, “It’s the exact same one that Cobain fellow plays in the album you love. It’s called Martin D-18E.”

“Draco.” She holds the acoustic guitar against her. It’s heavy and hollow and beautiful. “It’s perfect.”

His eyes are bright. “So you like it?”

“Of course!” She puts it down carefully and wraps her arms around him. She surprises them both by kissing him on the mouth.

His smile is contagious. “And you’re not angry?”

“Does this seem angry to you?”

“Good, because I hired an instructor to teach you lessons once a week at my place. Hope you’re free every Thursday at six.”

* * *

**OCTOBER**

Molly Weasley hosts a small dinner in honour of Hermione’s belated birthday. Ginny tells her to bring Draco.

He refuses at first, but when she says _please_ , he caves. “If Weasel breathes on me, I’m leaving, Granger.”

“Oh shush.”

They are all ecstatic to see her now that she has recovered from the ‘flu’.

Draco is tense and strains to be polite. She is reminded of how she felt at Blaise’s birthday and does her best to make him comfortable.

Ron glowers even though Lavender is there asking if he’d like some more tea, Won-Won?

Draco’s haughty stare returns every time he looks at Ron. He keeps a possessive hand on her leg the entire evening. 

“How’s business going, Draco?” Harry actually calls him by his first name.

Draco seems affected too because it takes him a moment to answer. “Quite well, just about to close a deal with an Italian Potions’ business… and you?” Hermione almost laughs at the strain behind asking Harry a personal question.

“I enjoy being an Auror. After that childhood, I need the excitement in my life.”

Draco makes a faint noise of acknowledgment. “Hermione tells me you’re expecting a baby.”

“We are.” Ginny places a hand over her belly where there is now an evident bump. “Can’t wait for this shit to be over, it’s driving me mad.”

“You’ll be alright, dear.” Molly plants a kiss on the top of her daughter’s head. “After the third, it’s easy sailings.”

Draco snorts and they all stare at him. He looks away, awkwardly.

Hermione giggles at the tension in the room. Thinks of how ridiculous it is that everyone is on edge because Draco is here when he’s the gentlest soul in her life. Their stunned faces turn to her and she can’t help it. She laughs and laughs until the room relaxes and joins her.

A loose brick in her foundation is sealed with concrete and this time she’s determined to hold it together.

* * *

Hermione’s guitar instructor is an old, tatted man with long grey hair that is always in a ponytail. His name is Beau. He is a Muggle and Draco makes sure to keep magic hidden from sight during their lessons.

Beau has a deep and gentle voice and he never gets frustrated. He teaches Hermione scales and how to read sheet music. Tells her she is the quickest student he has ever taught. She has dainty fingers and it’s a struggle to spread them across frets but she gets the hang of it. When her fingertips begin to callous, she calls it an accomplishment.

The nights Hermione wakes from nightmares, she picks up the guitar and plays until her fingers ache. She pours her demons into song and discovers she can turn something ugly into something beautiful.

* * *

Draco seals the Potions’ deal and throws a celebratory event at his house.

Hermione arrives early for dinner and pre-drinks with Pansy and Blaise. The painting Draco bought at the auction looks perfect on the dining room wall. Seeing it makes her smile and Draco notices.

Ginny and Harry attend. Gawking at Draco’s home the entire time and getting bombarded by excited witches and wizards who just have to exchange two sentences with _the_ Harry Potter. Ron was welcome but predictably turned down Hermione’s invitation.

Hermione gives Draco space to talk business. She spends most of her time with the girls: Pansy, Daphne and Ginny. They are an odd collective that receive second glances all night.

Hermione is in a jovial mood until Draco finds her again. He has been drinking and nurses a tumbler of booze in one hand. Hermione leans in to kiss him and catches a whiff of gin.

She is bombarded by a quick rotation of memories: a hot and sticky breath, the burning taste in the back of her throat, how it stung when she vomited in Draco’s sitting room that wretched night.

She reaches the loo in the nick of time. A phantom sound of deep, repeating grunts resounds in her head. The back of her throat burns.

“Hermione?” Draco’s voice jerks her to the present. He fills the open doorway that she left unshut in her haste.

She extends an arm to stop him, “Don’t come closer.” She throws up again. Tears plopping into the toilet along with chunks of dinner.

She collapses on the ground, shutting the lid of the toilet when she’s done. “The gin,” she says, “It triggered something.”

His jaw clenches, eyes aflame. “I didn’t know.”

“Of course, you didn’t, why should you?” She laughs mirthlessly. “He-he was drinking gin that night… we both were.” Gin used to remind her of Draco. It was the first drink he ever made her. It was _theirs_. And now-now…

She begins to cry.

Draco takes her hand, helps her off the floor. He keeps his face turned from hers and apparates them to his room upstairs. She sits on the edge of the bed, putting her head between her knees. He disappears to the ensuite bathroom and when he remerges his breath smells like mint toothpaste.

She uses the loo next. Gargles mouthwash to clear the taste of bile from her tongue. His master bath is all male. Dark colours, clean and minimal, and so expansive she’d probably hear an echo if she screamed.

He is lying on his back in the centre of the bed when she returns. His hair is a halo of light on the black sheets. She climbs on top of the silk duvet, lies next to him. She places her head on his chest and drapes an arm around his waist.

He strokes her hair.

“Gin was ours,” she whispers with a sniffle. “It reminded me of you. And now it’s tainted.”

“Shh.” He murmurs, “It’s just a _thing_ , don’t waste your tears on a _thing_. I’ll make you a thousand other drinks.”

Draco and Hermione don’t make a reappearance downstairs.

* * *

**NOVEMBER**

“Young Malfoy has just acquired Maestro Pozioni. The last thing we need is another corrupt dark wizard taking over our commodities.”

She is at the canteen when she catches exchanged gossip by two older Ministry employees.

“What do you expect? Money talks and Merlin knows the Malfoys have too much to say.” The other gentleman is sneering. “Mini Lucius that one is.”

Hermione freezes. Her teeth smash so hard against one another it hurts. “Funny, I didn’t hear you complaining when you were at the celebration last month, drinking all of Draco’s liquor, Mr. Robards.” 

She understands now what Draco meant when he said if someone insults her, they insult him too. Draco, a mini Lucius? A corrupt dark wizard? She might hex them.

They gape at her and Mr. Robards turns rightly red. She shoots them an indignant look before storming away. _Bloody fools._

* * *

“Could I ask you a personal question?”

He turns from the bookshelf, intrigued. “Go on.”

“How much does it bother you that people have judged the name before knowing the man?”

He understands immediately. “It’s inconvenient.”

“Is that all?”

He sits on the leather sofa in the study. “You want the truth? Yeah, it’s shit. But you know what? I get it.”

She sits beside him. “Of course you get it, you’re intelligent. Doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to feel a certain way about it.”

His expression softens. “It bothers me that I have to try harder. In business, people are automatically suspicious of me. It’s not a good look. In my personal life? I don’t bloody well care. You think the frilly Ministry workers mean anything to me? Who the fuck are they?”

Hermione bites back a grin.

“The people who matter know who I am.”

* * *

Beau invites Hermione and Draco to an open mic night where he is performing. Surprisingly, it is Draco who is more excited to attend. He has taken a liking to the tatted, old man and she thinks it’s because his lessons have improved Hermione’s anxiety tremendously.

They sit at a circular table for two, facing a small stage. It is a Friday evening so it is busy enough for the tables to be occupied, but not so much that late-comers have to stand. Draco watches the other Muggle performers with interest. Hermione notices that he gets very into the jazz band.

They drink espresso martinis. Hermione’s hand stays on Draco’s thigh the whole night. Beau and his wife perform a lovely Spanish ballad, with complex guitar that makes Hermione starry-eyed.

The four of them end up at a late-night diner for a midnight meal. Draco orders a cheeseburger and chips and tries an ice cream float for the first time. He is kind and courteous, and asks the older couple all the right questions. Foots the bill and tells them he looks forward to their next performance.

They hold hands walking through London town in the fading hours of the night. “Did you have a good time?”

“I enjoy music events. Let’s go to more,” he says.

She kisses him right in the middle of the street. Draco laughs and she kisses him some more. Hers. He is all _hers_. And she has never been prouder.

“I don’t want the night to end.”

“Come to mine.” He kisses her again.

They apparate to his house. She wears one of his t-shirts and a pair of boxer shorts.

“You drive me crazy,” he says against her mouth. “I can’t get enough of you.”

She falls asleep lying in the warmth of his chest with his arms wound tightly around her. Her sleep is so restful that she sleeps over the next night, and the next, and the one after that…

* * *  
**DECEMBER**

“How are you spending Christmas?” She asks one evening over dinner at her place.

“I’ll pay mother a visit at the manor,” he replies, “I haven’t seen her in a while and I reckon she’s rather lonely.”

“How is she?”

There’s tension in his eyes. “She’s coping but it’s hard for her without father around.”

Her heart goes out to Draco. She’ll never forgive Lucius for what he did to her, or Ginny, or the other innocent witches and wizards that he victimized. But he is Draco’s family and she won’t hurt him with intolerant words.

“And you?” He asks, “Going to your mum and dad’s?”

She nods. “I was going to ask you to join me but I understand that you need to be with your mother.”

Draco stills. This is the first time she is mentioning meeting her parents. She wonders if that makes this too real for him. “You want me to meet them?”

“Is that wrong?”

“Have you mentioned me?”

“I told them I was dating a former classmate. They would like to meet you,” she says.

“When?”

“If not Christmas, they host a holiday party the evening of the twenty-sixth. Would you come?”

He deliberates.

Hermione fidgets on her seat.

At last, a small nod.

* * *

Ginny has become huge and looks like she is about to burst any day now. Much to her dismay, she has become bedridden. Too large to waddle around, and easily exhausted after a few steps.

Hermione pays a visit and sits on her bed. She brings her guitar and plays gentle lullabies, knowing the baby is listening. “You’ve gotten really good at that,” Ginny says, eyes shut as she listens.

Hermione smiles fondly. “It makes me happy.”

Ginny blinks an eye open and says smirkingly, “Is that the only cause of your happiness?”

Hermione blushes, “You know it isn’t.”

“Not a phase, is he?” Her hand is rubbing circles on her protruding belly.

“I hate that.” She puts the guitar down. “That he’s automatically considered a _phase_ because he’s different than us. Nobody has ever been more kind to me, or patient.”

“You can’t be offended, Mione. We remember him as _Malfoy_ , the little shit that used to tattletale and spout racist slurs, at you! Besides, what’s there to be patient about? You’re a lovely woman, anyone would be lucky to have you.”

Hermione smiles but it doesn’t reach her eyes. She never told any of the Gryffindors about what happened. It’s too difficult to talk about.

Ginny is very pregnant and Hermione isn’t going to drop a bomb on her. Maybe, she never will.

* * *

Draco arrives to Dr. and Dr. Granger’s home with a hefty Christmas bouquet and a shimmery bottle of champagne. He is cordial and smooth-talking and her parents find a liking to him.

She shows him her childhood room.

“I forget what a bucktoothed, bushy-haired child you were.” He grins at an old photograph of her and her mother on Christmas Eve.

“What about you? Greasy hair, pointy-nosed brat!”

“Ooh hexes fired, Granger.” He places a hand over his wounded heart. “You know how that turns me on.”

She rolls her eyes, falling back on her bed with a laugh. “You are such a freak. How was your mother, by the way?”

“Managing.” His face becomes more serious. “I want her to become more involved with the business, get her mind busy. She said she’d consider it.”

“That’s a great idea, Draco,” she says, struck again by his thoughtfulness. “And, how are you?” She’s been worried about him.

He sits next to her, strokes her cheek with his thumb. “I am perfectly happy, darling.”

She smiles at the endearment, shuts her eyes and presses into his warmth. His always gentle touch, his delicious Draco scent, his deep and articulate voice, all put her at ease.

“Want your Christmas presents now?” She remembers.

“Oh yes, how could I possibly forget? You first.” He takes tiny packages out of his pocket and enchants them to their actual size.

The first gift is a first edition collection of Charles Dickens novels including _Great Expectations_ and _David Copperfield_. She flips through the pages reverently, taking extra care with the spines. “Draco, this is too much.”

“Do you like them? I noticed you read a lot of his books.”

“Like them? Are you jesting? This is extraordinary!” He must have spoken to Muggle salespeople, done research. But she is learning that he will do anything for the ones he cares about, and she has somehow landed in the centre of his universe.

He is watching her with a gaze that is equal parts soft and intense. He only ever looks at her this way. Has ever since they listened to the Nirvana record in her flat and fell asleep staring into each other’s eyes.

“Should’ve had you open the other gift first,” he says with a sheepish grin. “This one is less your style and more mine.”

It’s a dainty tennis bracelet. The miniature diamonds glitter spectacularly under the strip of sun beaming through the window. He clasps it around her wrist. “I thought you’d prefer something like this over a flashy piece. Besides, this will suit your delicate bones.”

She opens her mouth to say she can’t accept it but he stops her. “Don’t want anything but an: _it’s lovely, Draco. You’re absolutely right, I’ll wear it all the time_ , out of your mouth!”

She laughs at how well he’s come to know her. “It’s lovely, Draco. You’re absolutely right, I’ll wear it all the time.”

He kisses her. “That’s my girl. Now my turn.” He seems very eager and Hermione’s nerves billow.

The first gift is a Muggle stereo for his house. He has taken a liking to her music and she thinks it’s fitting to have his own. “I suppose it’s a bit of a gift for me too,” she tells him, seeing as she’s over more than half the week.

“The house elves are going to love the noise.” He chuckles. “When can we buy albums?”

“Anytime you want.” She is smiling from ear to ear. She gives him an envelope. “This is your second present. I suppose, this one’s a present for me as well.”

He watches her in amusement. “Bit of a reoccurring theme here, Granger? Thought you were supposed to be selfless or something.”

“Shut up, just open it.”

It’s a pair of tickets to the Montreux Jazz Festival in Switzerland.

“I know you love jazz, so I thought we could make a trip out of it in July. It’s the biggest jazz festival in Europe.” She wonders if it’s too forward to assume they’ll be together in July.

“You must give me the list of performers. We’ll buy their records and listen to a new one every night.” The twinkle in his eye rivals the brilliance of the tennis bracelet

* * *

That night, with Crookshanks in her arms, Draco and Hermione apparate back to his place.

Her guitar sits on her lap, a pick between her teeth.

As she tunes the strings, she begins to say, “I learned a song for you. It reminds me of you –of us. I know our relationship is progressing much slower than you must be used to. But I’m grateful for your patience and kindness to me. You’ve become my best friend in the whole world, Draco.”

The gentle intensity returns to his eyes in full force. Oh, how she can stare all day long. 

She positions her fingers and plays an acoustic rendition of _Oh Me_. She isn’t a singer and she doesn’t try, there’s a beauty in the tinkering sound of the guitar alone. She has been practicing this piece for hours every day, wanting to get it perfect.

The lyrics are unspoken words between them.

_If I had to lose a mile_

_If I had to touch feelings_

_I would lose my soul_

_The way I do_

_I don’t have to think_

_I only have to do it_

_The results are always perfect_

_But that’s old news_

The shiny star she imagined when they first started dating is now a speck in this infinite universe that she will always locate. It’s magnetizing, and moves her the way the moon turns tides. Nobody will ever understand because it belongs to her and Draco alone.

“I think you might be the best thing that has ever happened to me,” he whispers when the song reaches an auspicious end.

She launches herself into his arms. They are a pile of tangled limbs.

She tugs his shirt off. Runs her hands over lean muscle. He falls below her and she covers him with the length of her body, pressing kisses everywhere. Her lips descend his torso, dipping into the defined lines of his abdomen. Goose pimples appear on his skin and his chest rises and falls like it’s a race.

She sits up on his lap and yanks her own shirt off, brazenly unclasps her bra and tosses it to the ground. He sits up too, looking only at her eyes when he says, “Are you sure?”

“I’m ready to try this again,” she says, without hesitation. They have been together for over six months now. He has never pushed her too far. She places his hands over her chest, making the first move. He groans as her curves fill his palms.

His hands come around her back and he’s pulling her into him again. They are chest to chest, skin to skin. His temperature runs hotter than hers and it affects her like the sun, bringing forth calm and drowsiness.

Like a clock ticking in slow motion, an extension of time is added to his movements. Their kisses become lazy. He keeps one arm behind her back and uses the other to tuck a curl behind her ear. She nuzzles into the vertex of his jaw and neck. Presses her lips to his pulse.

They fall asleep this way and Hermione doesn’t wake once in the middle of the night. When morning comes, she doesn’t remember a single dream.

* * *

On New Year’s Eve, Hermione experiences her first flash of raging jealousy.

Draco and Hermione arrive in dark green to the Ministry’s NYE Gala. She is wearing the pantsuit from Draco’s Potions’ event over a year ago –the first time he saw her in green. Draco wears a tuxedo with a velvet jacket, and black trousers. The golden embellishments solidify his heir status in the form of snake-shaped cufflinks, and a pocket-watch with a chain that dangles from the waistcoat. She can’t keep her eyes off him.

She’s not the only one.

Astoria Greengrass arrives in a sparkly one-shoulder dress that is tight-fitting and reveals miles of leg. She takes one look at Hermione’s refined look and smirks like she’s already won.

“Hello, Draco.” Astoria kisses him on the cheek. “You look dashing.”

“Thank you. Hope you enjoyed your holidays.”

“I went to Bora Bora. Remember how we talked about visiting together?” She is standing closer to him than Hermione.

“Hmm, vaguely,” he replies. Gaze flickering down her figure. “Looks like you’ve got some sun.”

She giggles. “You always did like it when I had some colour.”

Hermione feels the urge to flick her away like a pesky fly buzzing in her atmosphere.

Instead, Shacklebolt notices her. He asks how Harry and Ginny are doing, when they are expecting their baby, and yada-yada. She is whisked from one Ministry employee to another, forced to make polite banter and ask about children and holidays she doesn’t care about.

Blaise and Pansy haven’t come, they are spending the winter break at Blaise’s vacation home in Sardinia. Hermione misses her presence wholeheartedly. Especially because Pansy would have put Astoria in her place with a witty comment drenched in Slytherin scorn.

Draco finds her later.

He has brought her a flute of champagne. They clink glasses before they sip. She has her mouth open to ask him a question when Astoria butts right between them. “Draco.” Her French-manicured claws caress his bicep. “Dance with me?”

The glass fissures beneath her hand and cool liquid trickles over her thumb. The notorious Malfoy name means Draco needs to hold up well-mannered appearances. Still, she glares and glares as Astoria presses her body against him. The way a loved-up couple would dance together.

“Careful, Hermione.” Lavender has appeared beside her. “You might set Greengrass on fire with that look.”

She blushes. “You look lovely, Lav.” A cursory glance over Lavender’s pink gown. “Where’s Ron?”

“Taking fire whiskey shots with Dean and Neville.” Lavender rolls her eyes. “Men.”

She laughs but it sounds forced and her eyes are on Astoria’s glittery dress again and Draco’s arms around her.

“Come now, Hermione.” Lavender draws her attention again. “No need to get territorial. Just wait until you get home and he’s pounding you into that overpriced mattress. Then you’ll forget all about one dance with another witch. That’s how I always feel when you and Ron are in the same room, you know. But I tell myself that he takes _me_ home and then I’m not so bothered anymore.”

Hermione doesn’t have a moment to feel bad about Lavender’s feelings because she comes to a startling realization. Astoria Greengrass is likely the last woman who has seen Draco’s cock. Who has made him come.

“Thanks, Lav. I’ll catch you later,” she says, already making her way to Draco as the song ends. There is no way she’s letting Greengrass steal another dance.

“Come with me.” She takes Draco’s hand and hauls him away before Astoria has a chance to finish whatever sentence she’s started.

It is twenty minutes before midnight and most people are congregated in the main ballroom, fetching drinks and preparing for the countdown. Hermione leads Draco to the hallway. Shoves him into an empty lounge and locks the door.

“Granger, what is going on?”

“Shut up,” she says. Unbuttons his jacket and tosses it on the round, burgundy settee. She falls to her knees and begins to unbuckle his belt. He sucks in a harsh breath. She undoes the buttons and fly and tugs the trousers down. Does the same to his black boxer briefs and Draco’s cock springs free, sporting a semi.

He groans. “Fuck. I think I’m hallucinating.”

Her palm curves around him. He’s smooth and stiff and big enough that her lips have to spread wide to take him into her mouth. She lubricates the length of him with her saliva, bobbing her head back and forth until he is fully hard.

“Bloody hell.” He groans, twisting his fingers into her hair so he can watch her suck him off.

She uses her hands and mouth, twisting the base with two palms while her tongue teases the sensitive head. It glistens with pre-cum that she tastes on the tip of her tongue. His grip in her hair tightens. She’s loud and dribbling and there’s nothing graceful or refined about it.

The sound of chatter and music and clinking glasses reaches their ears. This is what undoes him. It’s in his black eyes as he watches her. His scholarly and sophisticated witch, on her knees, sucking him off while a Ministry party carries on in the next room over.

When she looks at him again, his eyes are shut, cheeks red and his mouth is open in a perfect O. It’s the most erotic thing she has seen in her life.

She sucks harder, covering her teeth with the bend of her lips. Her free hand cups his balls and she squeezes with just enough pressure. The hand around his cock twists from left to right while her head dips back and forth.

“I’m about to come.” He groans. “Fuuuck. Granger, you need to pull away now if you don’t want cum in your mouth.”

She doesn’t.

He cries out from somewhere deep in his chest. Her mouth fills with his salty cum. She releases his cock with a wet pop and swallows every last drop of him. He is panting when he takes her by the arms and helps her up. He yanks her into him and kisses her with tongue, tasting himself in her mouth.

“You’re fucking perfect, you gorgeous witch,” he says, cupping her face in his hands. The sound of a countdown reaches their ears. He wipes a tear from her cheek, it’s from exertion not because she’s unhappy and he knows this. “Tell me when you’re ready for me to return the favour.”

She kisses him again as midnight strikes. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright steamy end to Part II, hope you liked it haha. Will be posting Part III soon!
> 
> p.s.[here is the link](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T5LtSKKr7oY&ab_channel=NirvanaVEVO/) to Oh Me by Nirvana, from their MTV Unplugged performance. It's beautiful, may Kurt Cobain rest in peace. I thought it would be a nice touch to include music and an outlet for Hermione to release her anxiety. Besides, Nirvana is practically the definition of angst so I thought it was a perfect fit. 
> 
> Thanks for reading :)
> 
> x
> 
> S


	3. PART III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Maria81](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maria81/pseuds/Maria81/) did this cute little sketch of Hermione playing guitar and I had to include it. Thank you so much :')

\---

**PART III**

**JANUARY**

Albus Severus Potter is a January first baby.

Hermione and Draco visit the new parents at St. Mungo’s with flowers, balloons and too much chocolate. Hermione cries when they ask her to be his godmother. She holds the newborn in her arms. His eyes are puffy, red skin puckered. “Hello, my perfect angel,” she coos, “Godmother Hermione here, I’m going to spoil you to death.”

Draco peeks at the baby from over her shoulder. “Makes you feel rather old, doesn’t it?”

“Shush.” She carefully hands the newborn back to Ginny. “How are you?”

“Relieved.” She beams at the bundle in her arms. “Don’t know if I ever want to do that again. It was the worst pain I’ve felt in my life.”

Harry squeezes her shoulder. “You don’t have to, love.”

“Nonsense, Harry!” Molly has re-entered the room. The rest of the Weasleys are at the canteen, giving Hermione and Draco a moment alone with the new family. “Us Weasleys don’t just stop at one. Ginny will change her mind.”

Hermione and Draco exchange amused glances but manage to bite back their laughter. Albus begins to wail and Ginny groans. “Your turn.” She hands him off to Harry. He looks panicked, awkwardly rocking him back and forth.

“Give him to me, dear.” Molly is there, soothing her grandson back to stillness. 

“Ready to give up sleep for the rest of the year, Potters?” Draco is unable to help himself.

Ginny smirks. “Watch what you say, _Malfoy_. You were a perfect devil growing up, I imagine any child of your DNA is going to be a screamer.”

“Nonsense, I was so flawless that my parents only needed one.”

They all shoot him dirty looks.

* * *

Draco stumbles to a stop when he sees her in his drawing room.

She reaches him in three strides. His heavy head drops to the top of her shoulder. He slumps completely against her. “Hermione.” The single whisper of her name is both a plea and a cry of pain.

Her fingers sink into the back of his dusty robes. She runs her fingers beneath his cloak and shimmies it off his shoulders.

They sink to the unforgiving floor.

He buries his cold face into her neck. A drop trickles between touching skin, followed by two more.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Silence…

“Makes me too angry,”

…

“can’t have a fucking conversation that isn’t filled with resentment,”

…

“did it to himself,”

…

“Know what he told me?” He shakes his head. “ _At least he’s a year closer to death_.”

Her eyes sting. She never thought she’d see the day she cried for Lucius Malfoy. But no, it’s not for Lucius at all.

She apparates them to his room. Leaves him sitting on the bed as she draws a bath. She strips him down. Kneels behind the tub and ducks his hair into warm water. He’s pliable in her hands.

Washing his hair is like running her fingers through a stream. The novelty fascinates her. His head falls back, resting against the lip of the tub. He releases an elongated breath.

Her fingers sink deeper, massaging his scalp in ten small circles. His shoulders ease. She can barely differentiate his hair from the white suds, but it is the softest sensation.

She can’t resist pressing a kiss to his forehead.

He blinks a single eye open and mutters, “You’re cute, Granger.”

She curls around him as they lie in bed. He frowns in his sleep. She stays up the whole night thinking of ways she could fix it. Only to realize that she can’t.

She has nothing to offer him but herself.

* * *

Draco returns late from work.

He has been keeping busy and she knows it’s his coping mechanism, the way music has become hers. He doesn’t want to talk about Lucius anymore. “It just is, Granger. No fixing it, no changing things, it’s a shit situation,” he said when she tried to ask him about it. “Visits are difficult but it passes. I’m alright, darling. I promise.” 

He lies on her bed now. She’s sitting on his thighs. Wiggles against him, wondering if she can push herself a little. It has been a struggle to feel aroused below the belt.

He groans. “Fuck, Granger. You’re such a tease.”

“I’m trying something new.”

He tenses. “Is that right?”

She grinds back and forth against his groin.

He hisses, eyes shut. Still asks her, “How are you feeling?”

“Alright, I think.”

She’s in knickers and he is in boxer briefs but two scraps of fabric can only cover so much. Her heart begins to race and she isn’t sure if it’s from arousal or fear. She pushes onwards.

He makes a sound in the back of his throat as they kiss, fully under her spell. His hands are on her hips but only for support. He is letting her take the reins. She thinks she might be okay, that she might be able to do this–

 _Squeak-squeak-squeak_.

The squeaking of the bed with each punishing thrust. Unwelcome hardness between her legs – _inside_ of her. The dry, endless pain.

She falls off the bed in her panic.

“No, no, no.” She covers her face in her arms.

Draco joins her on the floor. Doesn’t touch her. He reaches for his wand and conjures a glass of water.

She takes a shaky sip. She’d been certain she was improving. She _has_ improved. But not enough.

“What was it this time?” He asks.

“The squeaking of the bed,” she says, “It was similar to his...”

He rubs a rough hand over his brow. “Grab the cat, we’re going to mine.”

The next day, Draco buys her a new bed.

* * *

Beau helps Hermione find Nirvana guitar tabs and she practices to the Unplugged album for days. It gives her mind something to focus on, her fingers a challenge. The music weaves calm into her life.

Pansy visits and listens to Hermione play all night. She does paperwork that has piled up while she was in Sardinia.

“He’s been so patient with me, Pans. I feel horrible,” she says, “Everything is smooth sailings for a time and then something triggers me and we take ten steps back.”

“Don’t worry about that, Hermione. All he wants is for you to heal. It’s the first priority, love.”

“What if he tires of this? We haven’t had sex yet and it’s been seven months.” 

“He doesn’t see you in that way.”

She tenses. “What do you mean?”

Pansy rolls her eyes. “I _mean_ he doesn’t see you as a causal relationship. Chap's crazy about you, Granger, if you haven’t noticed. I reckon you’re the real deal to him.”

* * *

**FEBRUARY**

“I already RSVP’d to Luna’s birthday.”

“Send her our apologies, we’re going to Theo’s.”

“Oh, is Theo more important than Luna now?”

“Yes,” he says.

“Luna is one of my closest friends!”

“Theo is one of mine.”

“I hardly ever see you spending time with him.”

“You want to play that game, Granger? When was the last time you and Loony-Lovegood got together for tea?”

“Don’t call her that.”

“Still not going.”

“Well, I’m not going to Theo’s birthday. It’s likely going to be another Slytherin-fest and you know how your former House feels about me.”

“Oh right, because your holier-than-thou Gryffindors welcome me with open arms.”

“At least they’re not cruel! Your friends think I’m a Mudblood tainting the air with my presence.”

“ _Who?”_

“Who! Don’t you remember what Marcus Flint said to me at Blaise’s? Besides, they don’t have to outright say anything. It’s in the way they look at me.”

“First of all, Flint isn’t my friend. Second of all, do you really think I’d let someone hurt you like that?”

She turns away. “I’m not going. Either you come with me to Luna’s or we go to our own parties.”

“Fine, enjoy Loony’s special day.” He sounds absolutely bitter, reminding her of the boy from her childhood. “Maybe look beyond yourself for five seconds, Granger. Think about how your friends treat me and ask yourself if it’s that different from how you feel around my Slytherins.”

She whirls around. “Are you calling me selfish?”

“You take advantage of my kindness to you.” He pins her with a hard look. “Would be nice to return the favour.”

“Oh, I’m unkind to you now?” she says, “I didn’t realize you were sacrificing so much spending time with me.”

“Not with _you_. But with your friends that you always insist I have to see. I do that for you. You think I actually want to exchange pleasantries with Potter or sit at a dinner table with Weasel knowing he’s been between your legs?”

“Screw you!” She shoves him. “Screw you, Malfoy. You knew who I was when you started dating me. You know what my friends mean to me. If it’s such a bother to you then find yourself a sacred, little pureblood witch and take her to your damned parties. Astoria Greengrass might still be available.”

She _knew it_. He’s been thinking of how Ron has shagged her and he hasn’t. 

His jaw is clenched and his eyes are wild, “Would that solve all your problems? Get rid of the Slytherin infestation in your life? Maybe I will, Granger. Maybe I _fucking_ will.”

“Great! Tell me how you go,” she says as he enters the fireplace.

He vanishes fittingly in an eruption of flames. 

* * *

They don’t spend Valentine’s Day together.

They each attend their separate parties. Neither wants to reach out first to apologize.

Days of silence. Days of sleeping in their own beds. Hermione snaps at an intern for misfiling a document and makes her cry. Oxbridge gives her an earful for it. She has to skip a lesson with Beau because she doesn’t want to go to Draco’s place. She tries to spend time at Harry’s but Albus shrieks and howls the whole time and it only manages to give her a headache.

At last, Pansy Parkinson declares she has had enough.

“I’ve had enough.” Pansy slams her wineglass on the table and startles Hermione, who has been staring at the mantle deep in thought. “When are you and Draco going to put this ridiculous quarrel behind you?” 

“Even if we kiss and make up tomorrow, it doesn’t mean the issue won’t come up again in a few weeks.” She stands to refill her glass of Chardonnay at Pansy’s mini bar.

“Then you’re just going to let it drive a wedge until you’re over?” She shoots Hermione a telling look. “Thought you were more resilient than that, Granger.”

The thought of being officially over with Draco makes her want to cave into herself and never remerge.

“That’s what I thought. Blaise and I are having dinner at his place tomorrow night, Daph is coming too. Come and fix it.”

* * *

Hermione enters Draco’s dining room to find that Astoria Greengrass has taken her seat at the table.

Pansy, Blaise and Daphne are happy to see her, wholly oblivious to her inner turmoil. She steels herself, straightens her posture, and raises her chin. “Can I speak with you for a moment alone?”

He is looking at her like he’s been Stupefied.

They enter the sitting room and Hermione casts a Muffliato charm. “What is _she_ doing here?”

He is staring at her mouth. It takes a moment for her question to register. “Daph thought she was going to be the fifth wheel or something and brought her along. She didn’t know you wouldn’t be here.”

She releases her breath. “I came to apolo-”

He is kissing her before she finishes the sentence. “I missed you so bloody much.”

She eases into him, kissing him back with all the lost passion of the last few lonely days combined. “I’m sorry,” she says, “You’re right. My friends don’t treat you well. I’ve noticed too and it does bother me. I’ll make more of an effort to come to your events.”

“You’re _mine_ , Granger,” he says, holding her face between his hands, “We do this together, yeah? Nobody has to fucking understand. They just have to deal with it. Next time our events overlap we flip a coin.”

She laughs. “Alright deal. And about what you said about me being selfish—

“You’re not selfish, darling,” he interrupts, “Not at all. I was only angry and I say stupid shit when I’m angry.”

“But I understand where you were coming from. You’ve been so understanding and patient. I haven’t done nearly as much for you.”

“We’re not keeping tabs. You’re recovering from fucked up trauma. If I wasn’t here for you, I’d be a useless prick.”

When they return to the dining room, Draco asks Astoria and Daphne to slide over a seat so Hermione can sit next to him. Astoria shoots dirty looks at Hermione the whole time. She couldn’t care less.

Pansy winks at her from across the table.

* * *

**MARCH**

Ron decides he wants to spend his birthday getting hammered.

Hermione has raided Pansy’s closet and wears knee-high boots, a black mini-skirt and a tight-fitting top, covered by a peacoat that she promptly takes off inside. Draco watches her like a ravenous werewolf on a full moon. 

“Mione!” Ron is deep in his cups and ecstatic to see her. He marches right up to her and gives her a big, smacking kiss on the mouth. “You’re finally here.”

“Hands to yourself, Weasel.” Draco steps forward.

Hermione hauls him back and shoots him a warning look. “Happy birthday, Ron. Been drinking I see.”

“Only just starting.” He grins at them toothily. “Catch up.”

She watches him stagger to Lavender. He hauls her into his arms and begins to snog her in the centre of the room shamelessly. Draco takes her hand and leads her to the bar. “Will damn well need to.” Barely audible over the heavy bass but Hermione is close enough to hear him.

“He’s harmless. He didn’t even insult you.”

“Just ignored my bloody presence.”

* * *

Hermione is dancing with Luna, Lavender, and Ginny. Draco and Neville are having a chat at the bar. Ron, George, Angelina, and Harry laugh up a storm at the reserved booth, growing more drunk as the night progresses.

She barely registers the interested wizards passing looks at their group. Luna and Lavender hold hands and start spinning on the dance floor. Lav’s short, flowy dress and Luna’s maxi skirt create pretty swirls of colour as they twirl.

She has missed this easiness with her school friends.

Beefy hands grab her from behind and she is yanked roughly into a pudgy belly. A pang of fear shoots straight to her chest. She elbows the man in the gut before he can force her to dance. She stumbles loose. Ginny stares at the brash wizard with unconcealed disgust.

When she turns to tell off the handsy bastard, Draco is rushing past her with his wand pointed at the man’s throat. “How about I hex off your fucking hands?”

He raises his arms and cautiously shuffles backwards. Hermione sees that he is intoxicated and likely meant her no harm. But Draco barely notices.

He lowers his wand and swings. “Draco!” The wizard’s nose gushes purple blood beneath flashing, blue-hued lights.

He turns at the sound of her voice.

Grasps her chin with his clean hand, frantic eyes searching for something in her face.

Her heart might explode. “I’m alright, Draco. I promise.”

It is the one moment of peace before everything bursts into chaos.

Draco and the wizard are dragged outside. Ginny watches on with uncontained shock. She doesn’t have to say anything for Hermione to know what she’s thinking, what all of her friends are thinking as they approach the scene.

_Typical Malfoy. Can’t contain himself. Entitled brat. Attention-whore._

She wants to shake them. Wants to scream at them to stop looking at him that way. They don’t get it. They don’t understand.

She chases after him to ensure he isn’t arrested for his endearing stupidity. Ginny is the only one that follows her.

Luckily, when he hears that the witch he tried to grope was _the_ Hermione Granger, best friend of _the_ Harry Potter, the wizard foregoes charges. Both men are given restraining orders and told to leave.

As Draco finishes talking to the club manager, likely bribing him to keep the situation under wraps, Ginny approaches. “Mione, you alright?”

“Fine. Please apologize to Ron for me if he remembers this later.”

“What was that?” she demands, “Is he always so violent?”

She freezes. “Of course not! The man laid hands on me. What did you expect?”

“I get it but that was an overreaction. Everyone acts stupid at the club. He didn’t have to break his nose.”

She _doesn’t_ get it, but why would she?

“I have to go.”

* * *

Draco storms to the bath the moment they return.

Hermione wants to prove to him that she’s alright, the man only startled her. She strips out of her clothes and follows him boldly.

The water is running and his back is turned to her as he stands motionless under the hot spray. She notices the tension in his shoulders. Discerns his ragged breathing. His pale hair has flattened against his head, lighter when wet. He is tall and lean and glorious and her heart begins to race.

She is opening the shower door daringly when he finally notices her presence.

His eyes widen, taking in every inch of her naked figure. His Adam’s apple bobs visibly. “Hermione,” he says it like a prayer.

She stands on tiptoe and kisses him. Her hands slide down his slippery limbs. She takes him in her hand, begins to rub.

“Fuck.” He throws his head back. She continues until he shatters. He takes her by the waist, lifts her against cool tiles. The steaming spray hits the left side of her body, his right. “Is this alright?” He asks.

She wraps her legs around his hips as response. His mouth leaves a stepladder of love marks down her neck. Her eyes shut, desire pools below her belly. Her fingers glide through his soaked hair. “Draco.” 

He releases her neck to look into her eyes, the intensity of his gaze fortifies.

“Draco,” She repeats. “I’m ready for you to return the favour.”

It takes him a moment to understand what she means.

He uses a wandless spell to shut the water. Carries her, dripping wet, to his bedroom and places her on the edge of the bed.

“You’re perfect,” he says, kneeling in front of her, “More beautiful than I could have ever imagined. And mine.” He spreads her legs, rains kisses on the insides of her thighs.

He pulls her forward so that his face is at her core, and her legs are hooked over his shoulders. “I’m going to make you come,” he says, “And when you do,” he licks her from base to clit in one measured stroke. “You’re going to scream my name.”

She shudders.

He licks her again. Her head lands on the mattress. He doesn’t hold back, isn’t nervous or awkward. His tongue is quick and supple, drenching her with a mixture of his saliva and her own arousal. “ _Ohh_.” She cries, twisting her fingers into his hair.

Her eyes shut to _feel_. All of her focus is on the sensation of his tongue against her clit and the way it makes her writhe. His mouth clamps over her like he’s trying to take a bite. But it’s all soft, no aggression, no teeth.

Her soaked body and hair have left a damp spot on the bed. Drops of cool water trickle onto her pelvis from his drenched hair. He sucks her clit between clamped lips. She cries out at as he brushes a sensitive spot. He notes the reaction and licks her there again, and again, and again. “Yes, yes, yes.” His tongue slips to her entrance, releasing her clit for a moment and she nearly screams in frustration.

“Look at me.” His voice is all rasp.

She blinks her eyes open and meets his stormy grey irises. “Tell me what you want,” he says. She is momentarily brought back to their school days. To imagine that the cavalier Draco Malfoy would be on his knees, looking at her like _that_ , worshiping her with his mouth, is almost too much to handle.

“Make me come, Draco.” She tells him. They both groan at the words.

He undoes her with a series of quick strokes, a hard suction-cup grip of her swollen clit, one more swipe of tongue before– “FUCK DRACOOHH.”

* * *

“You didn’t use your fingers.”

After another shower, a drying spell on the bed, and a solid snogging, Draco and Hermione are wrapped up in one another. He kisses her temple. “I thought it might make you uncomfortable. Besides, I didn’t hear you complaining.”

“Definitely wasn’t.” She nuzzles into his neck. “It was my first orgasm in a year.”

“Honoured, Granger.”

* * *

“You know we love you, Mione,” Harry says, fidgeting with his glasses. “Which is why we wanted to have this conversation.”

Albus is asleep upstairs, giving the haggard parents a moment alone with his confused godmother. Ginny has just finished making tea and enchants the pot to pour them each a cup. The chair skids on tile as she sits next to him.

He continues, “We really wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt, but at Ron’s birthday he proved to us that he hasn’t changed much at all. We don’t think Malfoy is healthy for you.”

Hermione tenses. Harry’s hair becomes just as red as Ginny’s, as do the walls, and the windows, and the sink, and the table and the –

“He blew his top at the club over something minor. You’re a sensible woman, even you must have realized. He’s too possessive over you and that kind of relationship can be very toxic. We don’t want to see you hurt,” Ginny elaborates, brows forming a perfect V. “We just wanted to have this discussion with you before you were in too deep.”

There’s a whooshing noise in her ears, she feels the sudden urge to strangle them both. But then poor Albus would be an orphan. “You don’t understand, you’re judging him without knowing the full truth.”

Harry and Ginny exchange a look and Hermione is unsure whether they’re dubious or confused. Finally, Ginny says with a sigh, “Then help us to understand.”

She didn’t want to have this talk. Thought she could keep it between herself and the few people that knew about it. But she won’t stand for her friends to think of Draco in this way.

“Last year, I was assaulted… sexually.” She takes a deep, shaking breath. It’s still hard to think about, harder to say out loud. “Draco knows about it. He’s been helping me cope with the anxiety and when that wizard grabbed me like that, he was afraid that he might have triggered something. That he might have stalled the progress I’ve been making.” She wipes a tear from her eye with a trembling finger.

Ginny comes around the table and pulls her into her arms. “Oh, Hermione. We didn’t know.” She is immersed in warmth and the scent of baby powder. The coddling tips her over the edge and she begins to bawl into Ginny’s shoulder. Both relieved to get this off her chest, and bleakly reminded of how deep the impact of that night has spread. For a handful of minutes of _his_ selfish pleasure, he has tarnished months, likely years, maybe even a lifetime of her sanity. 

Harry takes the seat beside her. “I’m so sorry, Hermione.” He’s choked up. “We didn’t know. We’re bloody idiots. Forgive us.”

She releases Ginny to give him a hug, not liking the guilt in his voice. “It’s alright. How would you have known? I should’ve told you sooner but it’s difficult to talk about.”

“You don’t need to say anything else. We didn’t mean to bring it up,” Ginny says, “We owe Malfoy an apology. He’s been there for you and we thought he was overreacting.”

Harry draws back and looks into her eyes with purpose. “He treats you well? Has been taking care of you?”

She smiles despite her stream of never-ending tears. “He’s been there for me through it all. It hurts to hear everyone talk him down, he doesn’t deserve it. He did once, I’ll admit that. But if you got to know him now, you’d realize how different he is.”

Harry nods, determination in his green-eyed gaze. “That will change. I can’t speak for Ron. But Gin and I will make a solid effort. Anything you need, Mione. We’re here for you.”

* * *

She’s moaning loudly and doesn’t care if anyone in the massive house hears her.

Hermione is sitting on Draco’s face on the brink of an explosive orgasm. Notices his erect cock pressed against his stomach and bends forward to take him into her mouth. He groans against her and the vibration makes her squirm. His grip on her thighs tightens, keeping her down. She tastes pre-cum, feels the familiar ridges of him against her tongue. She wiggles on him as her head bobs up and down, taking the full length of him into her mouth.

She licks his cock from base to tip like an ice cream cone, “You think we can come at the same time?” She teases with a smile. His mouth is a little occupied so she doesn’t wait for a response as she sucks harder.

The answer to her question is no because Hermione can’t take it anymore and comes screaming.

She’s shaking as she crawls forward to continue blowing him. But he has other plans because he’s yanking her back to his mouth, “I reckon we can come at the same time.” His voice is very low, “Get ready for the second wave, darling.”

“Oh no-no,” She flinches the instant the tip of his tongue flicks her swollen clit, “It’s too sensitive, I can’t – ooooh.” He doesn’t listen and her fidgety bottom is squirming on him again, bracing for a second orgasm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha yet another saucy finish. Thanks for reading! Stay tuned for the final chapter tmrw :) Hope you've enjoyed so far!


	4. PART IV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've made it this far thank you! Here's our last and final part.

**PART IV**

**APRIL**

Hermione is walking down Diagon Alley when she sees Zacharias Smith.

She freezes. The noise of pedestrian chatter, shop doors opening and shutting, children’s laughter, it all goes mute. She has stopped breathing.

He is leaving a store, slouched and looking rather small despite his stature. He sees her and the nasty blue eyes that have been the centre of her nightmares go huge. For some ridiculous reason he looks afraid of _her_. She apparates.

Her first thought is to find Draco. She goes with her second and lands home. Her guitar is resting on its stand by the hearth. She self-soothes by playing until her fingers ache.

* * *

“I saw Smith today.” Hermione murmurs against Draco’s bare chest.

He tenses, arm going taut around her, “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“Wasn’t ready to talk about it until now.”

He brushes a hand over her mane of curls, “What happened?”

“Nothing. I saw him leaving a shop and apparated almost right away. It shook me up, real bad, if I’m honest. But I went home and practiced guitar until I felt better.”

He’s gone awfully silent. She hears only his breathing. Crookshanks is scratching something on the other side of the room, likely Draco’s couch. He’s had it mended twice already.

Her fingers brush up his chest, tickling the soft blond hair. “I was wondering…” she begins to say in a low voice, so not to disturb the peace of the dead night, “He seemed rather startled to see me. I didn’t notice anything outwardly wrong with him. But what exactly did you and Blaise do that night?”

“Besides beat the living daylights out of him?” Draco asks in a dark voice.

She shivers, “Yes.”

“Theo likes to experiment with new spells. He taught us a particularly interesting curse that we decided to test out.”

“Go on.” She is very intrigued.

“We made it so that if he ever touches anybody without permission, his dick will burst into flames.”

She sits up. “You didn’t!”

There’s a wicked look in his eyes, the ghost of a smirk, “Oh we most certainly did. He’ll have to avoid crowds for the rest of his life, tight lifts too, I reckon.”

“Draco!” She startles him by laughing. “Oh Merlin. You truly _are_ Slytherins.”

“Through and through, darling.”

* * *

“Three laps around the perimeter of the house, dive into the pool, swim to the shallow end and touch the ledge. Loser drinks Veritaserum and has to answer saucy questions until it wears off.” Blaise reiterates the rules.

“It’s freezing out!” Ginny protests. “They’ll catch their death.”

“The pool’s heated, Gin-Gin,” Pansy replies with a mocking smirk, “No need to mother everyone.”

Draco and Hermione are hosting dinner for Blaise, Pansy, Harry and Ginny. Over cheesecake and espresso, Harry and Draco get into a pissing contest over who’s fastest on a broom. Blaise comes up with the brilliant idea of a race and Pansy comes up with the punishment.

Draco and Harry are in their trunks, straddling shiny brooms from Draco’s personal collection. “Kill him, love.” She kisses Draco as he prepares to fly.

Harry shoots her a dirty look. She grins back sheepishly.

Blaise chants, “Ready, set, GO!”

The boys set off in two blurs of motion – one dark brown and one white blond.

The rest of them sit by the pool, passing around a bottle of tequila as they wait. Ginny is drinking tonight, having pre-pumped milk for Albus to give herself the night off. The stars grow hazy with every new sip and Hermione absorbs the beauty of it all. She is here with all of her favourite people and they’re getting along better than expected.

Twin splashes in the pool after a couple of minutes and it’s a race to see who’s the faster swimmer. Blaise is at the finish line, watching meticulously. “And the winner is –

Both of their heads pop up, drenched.

“It’s a tie.” Blaise declares.

“What?” Draco is outraged. “I won.”

“No, you didn’t!” Harry cries. “He’s biased.”

“My man is not biased!” Pansy is mock-offended. “Besides, I was watching. It was a tie. Looks like you’re both drinking the Veritaserum.”

* * *

“Did you ever fancy a Slytherin while we were at school, Potter?” Pansy’s eyes are glowing a bright green in front of the bonfire.

Ginny answers for him with a derisive grin, “No, he was too lovesick over Cho Chang.”

It’s too dark to tell if he’s blushing but Hermione reckons he is. “She’s not wrong.”

“And you, Malfoy?” Ginny turns the question on him. “Ever fancied a Gryffindor while we were at Hogwarts?”

Hermione is leaning against him on the folding lounge chair, he has changed into a wool jumper and soft trousers that are framing either side of her now. “Hermione.” He admits. “When she slapped me in Third Year. I like a woman who can stand up for herself. But it was at the Yule Ball when I realized she was hot.”

The group erupts into snickers. “Leave it to Draco to get a hard on for a woman that slaps him.” Pansy rolls her eyes. Hermione is smiling way too widely. He’s told her before that he’s always had a thing for her, so it doesn’t come as a major surprise. But the admission makes her giddy anyway.

“Craziest place you’ve shagged someone?” Pansy asks Harry, she is enjoying this activity far too much.

“We snuck into the Restricted Section of the library on my birthday last summer and had a quickie against the bookshelves.”

They all laugh and Ginny smacks Harry across the head even though it isn’t his fault. Draco whispers into Hermione’s ear, “We should do that one day.”

A warm blush spreads all the way to her toes.

* * *

“Guess what?”

“Hmm?” Draco looks away from the seven-tier cake that has just emerged for Pansy’s larger-than-life birthday party. He is dashing in a pinstripe tux and Hermione has been glued to his side all evening.

She leans in to talk in his ear, searching for a semblance of privacy in the dense crowd, “I may not have anything on under this dress.” She is in a nude Bardot dress that is figure-hugging with an elegant frill at the neckline.

Draco grins lopsidedly, shooting her an appreciative look.

“I want you to make me come with your fingers.”

He swallows. “Where?”

She takes his hand and leads him to the gardens. There is a lovely greenhouse at the back of the property. There isn’t anyone here but they don’t lock the door. Inside, it is bright, humid and colourfully lush.

He kisses her against the glass wall. She hums appreciatively as his hand slips down the curve of her back, over her arse and reaches the hem of the dress.

He flips them around so that he is against the wall and she is leaning against him, her back to his chest. “Feeling naughty, Granger?” He mutters in her ear, one arm wrapped around her waist, the other sliding up her bare thigh. The humidity is making her sweat, and Draco’s hot breath against her neck isn’t helping.

She can see the door from where she stands. Anybody can walk in and see them. She spreads her legs to give him access. She’s been thinking about this moment for days, has been craving it. She loves when he eats her out but she wants to experience everything with him.

Her hair is pulled into an updo so he has easy access to her neck and ears. He nibbles at her earlobe as his hand slides higher. Her breath hitches. “Tell me if you need me to stop,” he says.

“Keep going.”

He finds her clit blindly, knows her body by heart. He uses two fingers as he rubs her in languid circles. She moans. His dick is rock solid against the base of her spine. He ignores it, focused solely on her pleasure.

“Are you wet for me?” He asks, gliding his fingers to her entrance. He inserts a single digit and pauses. “Fuck, you’re soaked.”

She takes a moment to assess herself, but doesn’t need to because all she can think about is the dark scent of his cologne and the intense attraction that sizzles between them. She rocks against him, needing more.

He chuckles. “Patience, Granger.”

“No, _now_.”

“You’re so fucking tight,” he says with a groan, “Fuck, you make me so hard, you little witch.” His finger is sinking deeper and then it slips out. He inserts two fingers this time, curving them both to hit the exact pleasure point. 

The arm that is holding her waist releases to lift her dress above her hips for better access. She is completely bare below the hips and watches the door with nervous anticipation. She has never done anything like this before.

The extra space gives him room to play. She’s so wet that his fingers glide in and out of her with ease. She moves her hips to his rhythm, angling herself so that he brushes the pleasure point every single time. The thumb of the same hand finds her clit and begins to rub perfect circles. There is a precision in everything he does and she loves that it carries into the bedroom. 

“Oh Merlin.” She’s moaning, “Draco, I’m-I’m-”

“You’re what, darling?” he asks in a husky voice, completely turned on by her arousal.

“Ohh, Merlin. I’m almost-” She can’t finish her sentences. The room is becoming a blur of greens and floral reds and blue-black as the night beyond. The taunting glass door amplifies her excitement.

His arm tightens around her waist, practically gluing her to him. She continues to rotate her hips, desperation in the movement. Her heavy head drops against his shoulder, cushioned by the mass of curls.

Her eyes roll back as the pressure rises, and rises, and “Draco-ohh!” A current of electricity surges within her body, making her twitch everywhere. The moment his fingers release her cunt, there’s a splash against the cement floors.

“Fuuuck.” He groans, “That was so fucking hot.”

She is wobbly on her heels and the arm around her is holding her up entirely. Her chest is rising and falling raggedly. The greens and reds and blue-black of the greenhouse reappear. Her brow is sweaty from exertion but also the humidity. She can practically feel her hair loosening as the frizz creates too much volume. She’s hot all over and so satisfied she might melt right there in his arms.

* * *

**MAY**

“Draco, where the bloody hell is the gin?” Blaise is rummaging through the dozens and dozens of bottles behind the bar in the basement. “Was trying to make a Negroni.”

Draco’s arm around her stiffens but it’s the only reaction before he smoothly responds, “Make a Boulevardier instead.”

She tugs him by the shirt and kisses him wetly on the mouth.

“Ugh, make me one too.” Pansy gets off the couch across from them. “They’re snogging again.”

Hermione giggles, thinking of how the tables have turned. She’s so damned happy. “Did you toss all the gin?” she murmurs quietly, just for him.

“Course I did.” Lost in her amber eyes, he leans in and kisses her again.

* * *

“I told mother about you.” 

She is in the middle of chopping Lady’s Mantle and nearly slices her finger. “And?”

He glances at her with a small smirk. “Didn’t go very well.” Her heart sinks, what did she expect? “But I told her that she’s going to have to deal with it because I’m in love with you and you’re not going anywhere.”

She stills.

Flicks him across the temple.

“Ow!” He covers it with a hand. “What the bloody hell was that for?”

“You told her that before you even told me?” She tries very hard to hide her smile.

“I just did.”

She grabs his bicep and spins him so that he is facing her completely. “Tell me again. Properly.”

“Anyone ever tell you that you’re too bossy, Granger?”

She waits.

The teasing look in his eye shifts to the gentle intensity that is reserved for her alone. He lifts her onto the table, steps between her legs. A hand comes beneath her jaw, thumb brushing the skin at the corner of her mouth. “I love you to bloody bits, Hermione.”

A little flip at the base of her belly. She says, “I love you too, Draco.”

* * *

She wakes in a cold sweat after a vivid nightmare of a serrated memory.

Draco is peacefully asleep next to her. She doesn’t wake him. She pads barefoot to the sitting room. Sits on the very couch where she laid on Pansy’s lap, sobbing and trembling for hours. Runs the soles of her feet over the Persian rug where she’d lost the contents of her stomach, twice.

A year ago today, exactly.

She thinks about the saying ignorance is bliss. She didn’t value her peace of mind enough. Should’ve after the war because that was a trauma that took ages to recover from too. But this is different. This is lonely and internal.

She thinks that perhaps it isn’t all bad. She has learned to play guitar, has found an outlet for the pain. She never would have done that before, never thought it necessary or productive. Now she appreciates music, is humbled by its reach.

She thinks of the people in her life – Pansy, Harry, Ginny and most of all Draco, who have taken her lonely suffering and spread the weight so it isn’t solely on her shoulders. _Draco_ who tediously extracted every broken shard of her from _his_ greedy hands and set it back in place.

Hermione isn’t there yet but she can just see the sliver of light at the other side.

* * *

**JUNE**

“You know Granger, I inherited a few vacation homes. Didn’t need to inconvenience Blaise.”

“You’re a real snob, you know that?” She is leaning against the balcony of the master bedroom. The sun is already making her sweat, and the air is damp and salty. As she looks over turquoise waters, she thinks it is the most beautiful place she has ever been.

He comes up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. “Is that how you treat the birthday boy?” he murmurs in her ear, nuzzling her neck with the tip of his nose.

Hermione has convinced Draco to forego an extravagant party and spend his birthday with her. She asked Blaise if they could borrow his Sardinia villa and he generously agreed.

“When he’s being a snob? Yes.”

His chuckle vibrates against her pulse. “Do I get to unwrap my present now?”

She turns in his arms. “Go ahead.”

His eyes run down the white summer dress, and her lightly browned skin. He looks famished. “Pretty as it is, Granger, how do I take the bloody thing off?”

She smirks. “There’s a hidden side pocket.”

It takes him five seconds to find it. The dress drops to the balcony floor. He is momentarily startled by the white lace set underneath. “Merlin, Granger. You wicked angel.” He picks her up and she squeals a laugh, wrapping her legs around his waist.

Instead of putting her down, he sits with her on his lap. He is staring at her tits, rosy nipples peeking through slips of fabric. She is already unbuttoning his linen shirt, discarding it on the floor. She says in his ear, “I want you to make love to me.”

The grip on her hip tightens. His eyes darken with each passing second. “You’re sure?”

She kisses him, sinking her fingers into platinum hair. “Make love to me, Draco.”

He watches her for a moment, burning with the intensity that belongs to her. She is the only person that undoes him this way. That undoes him at all.

He puts her down carefully and begins to unbutton his trousers. She swipes at his hands, “Let me.” She tugs the trousers to the ground, drops his boxers next, until he is perfectly bare. He twitches against her palm, hard and eager.

This time, he slaps her hand away. “Not going to last if you do that.” His voice is husky and short. “Lie down, Granger.” She falls onto the plush duvet, cool against her flushed skin.

He grabs her thighs and yanks her forward so that her legs are dangling off the edge. “I’m going to fill your closet with hundreds of these.” He kneels at the foot of the bed, presses his mouth against her lacey knickers. “One for every colour of the rainbow.” The words vibrate against her core. “And I’m going to make you come in every shade.”

She’s panting. He licks her over the lace and she can feel the moisture of his tongue between the gaps of fabric. “You’re such a tease.” She whimpers. “Take them off.”

“Hmm.” He deliberates, slips a finger beneath the edge and sinks into her. “I don’t know. I quite like this. Might do it all night.”

“ _Draco_.” It’s practically a cry. He rotates the finger in circles, easing into her slick heat.

“Yes, Hermione?” He slips another finger beneath the fabric, coating his fingers with her arousal. His thumb presses into her clit above the lace. She twitches. He chuckles lowly. “You know, I used to have wet dreams about you at school. I was shagging Pansy at the time. Imagine my surprise when I would see your face at night, screaming my name.”

She asks, “With pain or pleasure?”

His hands vanish. She considers slapping him. He places his lips on the inside of her knee, peppers kisses up her thighs with the sweetest of touches. “Maybe a little bit of both.” He bites her inner thigh where it’s the plumpest. She yelps at the unexpected sting but it hurts so good. His teeth leave a possessive, serrated ring of dark red behind.

“What do you want, Granger?”

“You know what I bloody well want.”

He laughs. “Fuck, I love you.” He tugs off her knickers in one swift motion. He tastes her, lapping at the moisture that has gathered over the course of his teasing. “You’re my favourite flavour,” he says, “I’ll eat you every day and still want more.”

Her head falls back and her eyes shut in absolute bliss as he eats her out, the way he’s learned she likes. Long, languid strokes until she’s on the precipice of release followed by stormy prods until she’s screaming his name. Always his name, because she knows it turns him on and because she loves the way it sounds. Two perfect syllables, with that final, breathy O.

She is on the border of that scream now. He senses it and thrusts two fingers inside her again. “Mm, yes, almost.” Her spine curls, almost sitting up. He presses firmly on her thighs to keep her from moving.

He’s loud and wet and she’s racing higher and higher until. “Oh Dracooo.” She freefalls to a shuddering release.

He strokes one final time and she twitches so hard that he laughs. He falls onto the bed beside her. “Get over here, Granger,” he demands. She takes a moment to catch her breath and then she’s climbing over him, enveloping his cock between her slick pussy lips.

“Oh fuck.” He hisses. His hands slide up her torso and cover the lace bra. “Take this off.”

She smirks, grinding against him without plunging over him yet. Using her own slickness, and Draco’s spit to lubricate his cock. She swiftly unclasps the bra. “Any other requests?”

“Kiss me.”

Her heart jolts at the look of pure adoration in his eyes. She melts into him, touching her lips to his, coaxing her tongue into the warm cavern of his mouth. She tastes herself on him, familiar after months of oral sex. Feels a possessive need to be the only woman that will ever be on that tongue again.

His fingers curl into her hair, massaging her scalp lightly with the pads of his fingers. He smells like Draco in the daytime. Citrus, sycamore woods, a touch of rosewood. It’s all over her, coating her skin, filling her mouth, she’s simulated by every heady molecule of him.

Lost in the kiss, Hermione lifts her hips, positions the tip of his cock at her entrance, and descends. She releases a harsh breath of air, breaking the kiss in the process. He groans in absolute bliss. “Fucking hell, you’re so tight.”

She gasps a quick succession of breaths, accommodating him inch by steady inch. There is a pinch of pain as she hasn’t shagged in over a year now. A terrifying moment where darkness begins to creep in. A flashback of panic nearly swallows he-

“Look at me.” Draco has her face between his palms. “I love you, Hermione. I will never hurt you. I’ll kill anyone that tries, yeah? Stay with me, Granger.” 

A single tear escapes. She takes each of his hands, lowers them. “Draco?”

“Yes, darling?”

“Hold me for a second.” She lies on him, still buried inside of her.

She can tell he’s struggling but does it anyway. His arms come around her, and he’s so warm, and she feels his racing heart beneath his chest. Smells him again, reminds herself that she’s with Draco. It’s _Draco_ and he loves her and she’s safe and she won’t let _him_ win anymore, won’t let _him_ take this from her.

Slowly, she begins to move over him, a short rhythm at first. He sighs and she can’t tell if it’s outright bliss or agony. Pain or pleasure. She sits up, looks into his hurricane eyes and holds his gaze. “I’m alright,” she tells him, “Keep going.”

He takes a hold of her hips, helping her fall into a deep and slow rhythm. They look into each other’s eyes. His cheeks are scarlet, his hair is a white mess, and there is sweat beading over his blond brow.

He told her once that he wanted to be the only one that has ever mattered. He has managed to slither his way into her lion’s den heart. The past doesn’t matter anymore. It’s present, it will be future, and it will always be him.

As her body relaxes around him, and she registers prickles of pleasure building inside her, she picks up the pace. “This feels good,” she begins to say, “Ohh, fuck. It’s intense.”

He releases one hand, brings it to her mouth and pries her lips open. Folds his thumb over her lower teeth. She nips him teasingly, unable to hold it for long because a symphony of moans and breathy exhalations follow. “Scream for me,” he says in a gritty voice.

She slaps his hand away, folds forward and begins to kiss him only to bite his lower lip, hard. He cries out in pain, touching the spot to check for blood. But she hasn’t broken skin. “Only if you scream too.”

“My ruthless angel.” His eyes are full of mirth, a temporary break in the black lust. “What do you want me to scream when I come inside you?” He groans as she slams down on him hard. “Bloody hell.”

“What did you used to scream in those dreams?” She slams down again, eyes nearly rolling back from the pleasure. Does it again, and again until she can’t breathe. They are getting close. She feels it building inside her. She leans back, uses his thighs as props and quickens the pace. “Oh, ohh, ohhh.”

“Fuck, I’m going to come.” He growls. “Are you-

“DRACOOH.” She’s suspended over a bridge of total ecstasy.

He watches her face intricately in orgasm. Her pussy clenches against his cock and the combination of the two shoves him right over, “Oh fuck, _Hermione_. I fucking love you.”

She collapses over his chest, with him rooted inside of her. She feels his release, it isn’t disconcerting when she’s already so wet. She kisses his slick chest over and over, presses her lips against his frantic pulse. Her head is rising and falling with his heavy, panting breaths.

He wraps an arm around her back, strokes her curls with the other hand. “Did I tell you that I love you?”

She laughs, fully satiated. “Only a few times.”

* * *

“As I know you have a horrible habit of needing to be the best at everything, would you like to hear how you can make this birthday the best yet?”

They are walking hand in hand down the shoreline. Hermione is closer to the water and the tides kiss her ankles before retreating into the Mediterranean Sea. The sun is a shiny orange, spreading its juice across the sky before its official goodnight.

“It hasn’t been the best?” She is mock-offended. The seaside wind presses the light fabric of her dress against her thighs. There is a subtle soreness between her legs but she knows it won’t stop her from round four no, round five later. 

“Well, it could be better.”

She slaps him on the bicep. He chuckles. “Don’t get those lace knickers up in a twist, Granger.”

He pauses. “I simply wanted to ask you to move in with me.” A strand of hair sweeps across his eyes as they reflect the warm glow of Italy’s late spring dusk. “There isn’t a day that I spend with you that I’m unhappy. Irritated? Certainly. But always happy. You cured my loneliness, filled gaps in my heart that have been missing for years. I love you so bloody much, Hermione. Say yes.”

She thinks her heart has disintegrated and slipped into the sea. “Yes.”

“Yes?” He smiles with a perfect row of white teeth. “Yes?” He lifts her off the ground.

She’s laughing, his glowing mood is contagious. But so is everything about him. He has nestled himself so deeply inside her that his emotions might as well be her own. “Yes.”

Beyond his shoulder, she notices that the very first sparkle of a star has emerged.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wahh I'm sad it's over, I really liked writing this. I hope you enjoyed the read. Thank you for making it all the way. I look forward to writing more fun Dramione pieces.
> 
> Kudos and comments and shares are always appreciated.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. 
> 
> x
> 
> S
> 
> Look me up on all the different platforms [here](https://linktr.ee/sodamnrad)


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